


Harry Potter and the Simplest Solution part I

by evenmoreimprobable



Series: Harry Potter and the Simplest Solution [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Misguided Albus Dumbledore, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26487115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evenmoreimprobable/pseuds/evenmoreimprobable
Summary: Harry boards the Hogwarts Express for his first year at Hogwarts, but everything is not what it seems. Harry has come back from the future to defeat Voldemort, but he only has a few hours in which to do it. He needs to find the simplest solution...A fast-moving Harmony redo like nothing you’ve ever seen before. (Unless you read it previously, since this is a repost...)
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Series: Harry Potter and the Simplest Solution [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925587
Comments: 5
Kudos: 191





	1. A Slightly Different Journey

**Author's Note:**

> Anything you recognise belongs to JKR. Anything original belongs to me, but please feel free to use my stuff in your own stories. In fact, feel free to rewrite this entire story if you think you can do a better job. Just credit me somewhere and drop me a message so I can enjoy reading your version! I make no money from this fanfic.
> 
> This story is fast-paced (in the sense that time passes quickly) and has a few (hopefully unexpected and unusual) twists and turns. The romance is more 'slow burn' though, so don't expect Harry and Hermione to be snogging in Chapter 1. I hope you like the slightly unusual way this story is constructed. If not, don't worry – my other stories are a bit more normal. If people like this one I might post my other stories...
> 
> This story contains spoilers for all seven Harry Potter books and the Cursed Child.
> 
> I've split the story into several parts. Each part could easily be the end of the story, so feel free to stop if you're happy with that ending. :-)
> 
> From Chapter 4 (of the Series) onward this story will be heavily influenced by the song that Harry and Hermione danced to in the tent in the Forest of Dean. Some people might therefore consider this to be a "songfic". I would disagree, on the grounds that the movie (Deathly Hallows Part I) renders the song canon (or "movie canon", anyway). As such, I'm just expanding on something that's already part of the HP world; I'm not using some random song that only I have heard of and only I can relate to. If you've watched the Harry Potter movies (which you all have, I'm sure, because they're awesome) then you will recognise this song. I provide more info in the author's note at the top of Chapter 4. Nevertheless, if you hate songfics, please do not read this story. The BACK button is top left of your screen.
> 
> More generally, remember the golden rule of fan fiction – Don’t like? Don’t read!

Uncle Vernon dumped Harry’s trunk onto a trolley and wheeled it into the station for him. Harry thought this was strangely kind until his Uncle stopped, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

”Well, there you are, boy – platform nine, platform ten... Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don’t seem to have built it yet, do they?” He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

“Have a good term,” said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word. Harry turned and saw the Dursleys drive away. All three of them were laughing. Harry’s mouth went rather dry. _This was it._ The start of his new life. He’d endured all the pain and misery of the last few months to get to this moment. It would all be worth it. He would make sure of that.

According to the large clock over the arrivals board, he had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts. But right now he was stuck in the middle of a station with a trunk he could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money and a large snowy owl.

At that moment a group of people passed just behind him and he caught a few words of what they were saying, “Packed with Muggles, of course...” Harry swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry’s in front of him – and they had an owl. Heart hammering, Harry pushed his trolley after them. They stopped and so did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying. “Now, what’s the platform number?” said the boys’ mother.

“Nine and three-quarters!” piped-up a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand. “Mum, can’t I go...”

“You’re not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first.” Percy vanished as a crowd of tourists walked by. A pair of twins went next – running towards the barrier between the platforms abut disappearing instead of smashing into it.

“Excuse me,” Harry said to the plump woman.

“Hullo, dear,” she said, “First time at Hogwarts? Ron’s new, too.” She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet and a long nose.

“Yes,” said Harry. “The thing is, I don’t know how to...”

“How to get on to the platform?” she said kindly, and Harry nodded.

“Not to worry,” she said. “All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous. Go on, go now before Ron.”

“Er, okay,” said Harry. He pushed his trolley round and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid. He started to walk towards it. People jostled him on their way to platforms nine and ten. Harry walked more quickly. Leaning forward on his trolley he broke into a heavy run – the barrier was coming nearer and nearer – he was a foot away... he kept on running... Suddenly he saw a scarlet steam engine waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said ‘Hogwarts Express, 11 o’clock’. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it.

Harry fought down his excitement, took a few deep breaths and walked off down the platform. He pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk towards the train door. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot.

“Want a hand?” It was one of the red-haired twins he’d followed through the barrier.

“Yes, please,” Harry panted.

“Oy, Fred! C’mere and help!” With the twins’ help, Harry’s trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

“Thanks,” said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

One of the twins saw his scar and they soon figured out that he was Harry Potter. Fortunately their mother called them away. Harry sat down next to the window where, half-hidden, he saw the redheads say goodbye to their mother and tell her they’d seen Harry Potter. The three boys clambered on to the train which soon began to move. Harry saw the boys’ mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed; and then she fell back and waved.

The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy came in. “Anyone sitting there?” he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. “Everywhere else is full.” The twins appeared, introduced them, and took off again. Harry and Ron got chatting and Ron showed Harry his pet rat, Scabbers. While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past. Around half past twelve the food trolley arrived. Harry hadn’t had any breakfast so bought some of everything and swapped a load for Ron’s considerably more filling sandwiches.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and a round-faced boy asked if they’d seen a toad. He left miserably when they said they hadn’t.

“Don’t know why he’s so bothered,” said Ron. “If I’d brought a toad I’d lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can’t talk.” The rat was still snoozing on Ron’s lap. “He might have died and you wouldn’t know the difference,” said Ron in disgust. The round-faced boy and a bushy-haired girl entered the carriage just as Ron was trying to turn the rat yellow. The girl was singularly unimpressed by Ron’s attempt at magic and she repaired Harry’s glasses to show them how it should be done. The visitors chatted for few minutes then left to resume their search.

The blond boy from Madam Malkin’s turned up, flanked by two goons and looking for Harry Potter. He was a pompous ass so Harry refused to shake his hand. It looked like things might turn ugly until Scabbers bit one of the goons and the three of them fled.

A second later, Hermione Granger came back in. “What has been going on?” she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.

“I think he’s been knocked out,” Ron exclaimed, looking closer at Scabbers. “No – I don’t believe it – he’s gone back to sleep.” He dropped the sleeping rodent back in his cage.

“You’d better hurry up and put your robes on, I’ve just been up the front to ask the driver and he says we’re nearly there. You haven’t been fighting, have you? You’ll be in trouble before we even get there!”

“Scabbers has been fighting, not us,” said Ron, scowling at her. “Would you mind leaving while we change?” Ron glared at her as she left. Harry peered out of the window. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep-purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.

Harry started pulling his uniform from his trunk and piling it up on the seat. By the time he was done, Ron was already dressed. “Ron, would you mind if I have the compartment for a minute, to change?”

“Er, yeah, of course,” Ron stuttered. “No problem. I’ll er... just nip to the loo then.”

“Thanks,” Harry replied.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Harry’s wand whipped out and he pointed it straight at the still sleeping rat inside its cage. Harry glared at Scabbers with intense hatred and jabbed the rodent awake. Its tiny red eyes focused on the tip of the wand and widened in fear.

Harry’s voice was as hard as stone, “This is for my parents, you traitorous piece of shit. _Avada Kedavra!_ ”


	2. The Sorting Hat

A voice echoed through the train: “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately.” Harry exited the compartment just as Ron was fighting his way back down the heaving corridor. The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way towards the door and out onto a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air.

Hagrid led all the first years down a steep and narrow path to some boats on the edge of a great black lake. They soon got their first view of Hogwarts – perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. The boats took them across the water and through a cliff below the castle into an underground harbour. They clambered up a passageway in the rock following Hagrid’s lamp, coming out at last on to smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door. Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. Professor McGonagall, as she introduced herself, had a very stern face. She gave them a brief introduction to the Hogwarts houses, but Harry wasn’t paying attention at all. She left for a moment, and then returned to take them into the Great Hall for their Sorting.

It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles which were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. The tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the Hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first-years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Harry looked upwards and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.

He heard Hermione whisper, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside, I read about it in _Hogwarts: A History_.”

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard’s hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn’t have let it in the house. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and the hat began to sing. Harry ignored it.

The whole Hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again. Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!” A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment’s pause – “HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat.

And so it continued... one student after another. Hermione and the round-faced boy Neville were sorted into Gryffindor. Draco Malfoy and his two goons had gone to Slytherin. Soon there weren’t many people left. “Moon”... “Nott”... “Parkinson”... then a pair of twin girls, “Patil, Padma” and “Patil, Parvati”... then “Perks, Sally-Anne”... and then, at last – “Potter, Harry!”

Whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

“Potter, did she say?”

“ _The_ Harry Potter?”

Harry took a deep breath, turned... and leapt towards the teachers’ table. Before anyone had even registered what was happening, his wand was pointed straight at Professor Quirrell.

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

Quirrell’s eyes had barely enough time to widen in shock before the emerald green curse smashed into his chest. Heads were still turning to see what had happened as Harry began his next spell. He dropped to one knee, with his wand held above his head and shouted, “ _Protego Maxima._ ” The air shimmered above him, and then cascaded down like paint running over a glass dome. Soon he was encased in shimmering blue light.

Harry continued to chant as the room erupted into screams and chaos. “ _Fianto Duri. Repello Inimicum._ ” His eyes were trained on Professor Quirrell’s body the entire time. A black phantom was rising from the dead professor, screaming in fury. It spotted Harry and sped towards him, but smashed into the blue shield as if it were a solid wall. The phantom shrieked and recoiled as if burned. Slowly and deliberately, Harry lifted his left hand towards the phantom and raised his middle finger.

The apparition bellowed in rage. Behind it, Dumbledore had risen from his seat with his wand pointed at the howling abomination, which seemed to sense this and abruptly sped towards the wall, passed straight through it, and was gone into the night.

Finally, Harry relaxed. He lowered his wand and sat down cross-legged on the floor, staring through the glistening blue dome at the body of the professor he’d just killed. Dumbledore now had his wand trained on Harry, who turned his head to face the Headmaster. Very slowly Harry placed his wand on the floor in front of him. The energy seemed to drain out of the boy. His shoulders slumped and he breathed out heavily. Every single professor now had their wand trained on Harry. The rest of the room was still filled with screaming as students frantically tried to open the main doors to escape. Unfortunately the press of people was keeping them firmly shut.

Dumbledore took his eyes from Harry for a second and bellowed, “ _SILENCE!_ ” In moments the panic had subsided. “Move away from the doors. Professors McGonagall, Snape and Flitwick please remain here. All other professors and prefects, please escort the students to their houses or to the hospital wing if they require it. Hagrid, please take the unsorted students to the hospital wing.”

Harry sat impassively, his head bowed while the sounds of the room being evacuated echoed behind him. Within moments there was silence. Dumbledore lowered his wand, but the other three professors did not. “Severus, I assume Quirinus is dead?”

“Yes Headmaster.”

Dumbledore sighed and circled the table until he was standing a few meters to Harry’s right. The other professors kept their wands trained on Harry. “Hello Harry. I must admit that I am at a loss. Why would you do such a thing?”

Harry lifted his head and met Dumbledore’s eyes. “Do what, Headmaster? Defeat Voldemort? That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? That’s what you’ve spent the last ten years preparing me for.”

Dumbledore seemed briefly confused, but then his eyes widened in some sort of understanding. He seemed to consider his next words carefully

“But you didn’t defeat him, did you Harry? You merely deprived him of a host by murdering poor Professor Quirrell.”

Harry scoffed. “Murder, Headmaster? Hardly! Quirrell was already dead. He just didn’t know it yet. All I did was bring the date forward a bit.”

“Nevertheless, to take a life is murder, Harry.”

“Honestly, Headmaster, what do you hope to gain from such a ridiculous statement? Quirrell willingly sought out Voldemort for personal gain, without regard for the consequences. He brought a mass murderer into your school. You lecture me on the ethics of killing the guilty and yet you forgive those, like Lucius Malfoy, who’ve killed the innocent? Save your hypocritical sermons, Headmaster. I have no interest in them.”

Dumbledore eyed him shrewdly, “You know an awful lot for a muggle-raised child new to the Wizarding World.”

Harry smirked. “I do, don’t I? And you went to such great lengths to keep me ignorant; how very disappointing for you.”

“I didn’t try to keep you ignorant.”

“No? You sentenced me to ten dark years at the hands of magic-hating muggles, and then you sent Hagrid to introduce me to the Wizarding World. _Hagrid_ , of all people! How much do you think I’d know after that? I’ll tell you – less than a muggleborn.”

Snape had heard enough, “We should call the Aurors, Headmaster. Perhaps Mr Potter will appreciate his predicament more keenly once he reaches Azkaban.”

Much to everyone’s surprise, Harry just snorted. “Ah, Snape, you are nothing if not predictable. You’ve already decided that the phantom we saw was not Voldemort, then? Just because you don’t _want_ it to be Voldemort doesn’t mean it wasn’t. But disbelieving it gives you free reign to exact your revenge upon James Potter once again, doesn’t it? But what sort of person takes pleasure in sending a child to Azkaban? A twisted and irredeemable one, I’d say. I wonder what my mother will say about that, when you meet her in the afterlife?”

Harry watched in satisfaction as Snape paled.

“You’re a pitiful human being, Snape. How can you still despise someone who’s been dead for ten years? What sustains that hatred, I wonder? My father is no longer here and I’ve been out of sight this whole time... so what is it? What keeps that wound so fresh? We both know what it is, don’t we? It’s the sight of your own face in the mirror every day. My father and I are just reminders of how much your hate _yourself_. You know full well that my father didn’t steal Lily away from you. She detested my father until seventh year. You called her a Mudblood in fifth year. You had over a year to dump your Death Eater friends and win her back, but you chose your Death Eater friends instead. My father didn’t steal her from you. You _threw her away_.”

Snape glared daggers at him but gave no reply.

McGonagall and Flitwick were looking very confused, while Dumbledore was giving Harry a resigned and vaguely nauseated look, “How do you know all these things, Harry?”

“I’m sure you’ve already figured that out, Headmaster.”

Dumbledore seemed very reluctant to say it, “You are from the future, then?”

McGonagall and Flitwick gasped, while Snape roared, “ _Impossible! Utter nonsense!_ ”

Dumbledore never let his eyes stray from Harry, “I fear that the evidence supports no other conclusion, but perhaps Mr Potter can provide some proof?”

Harry shrugged. “Sure. Let’s see... things I learned in the future... Snape was the one who told Voldemort of the prophecy...” Snape visibly flinched, while McGonagall and Flitwick stared at him in horror. “Sirius Black is my Godfather but was not my parents’ secret keeper. He’s innocent of the murder of Peter Pettigrew and those muggles. You all allowed an innocent man to rot in Azkaban for the last ten years. Well done.” Their expressions seemed more incredulous than appalled. “You don’t believe that one? I happen to know that Peter Pettigrew didn’t die that day, since I killed him just a few minutes ago. He was an unregistered animagus and has been living as the Weasleys’ pet rat for the last ten years. No? Okay, never mind. You can investigate that later.”

“What else? Ah, you currently have the Philosopher’s Stone hidden within the castle, and have built a ridiculous set of challenges around it... ostensibly to prevent it being stolen but in reality to test my mettle. Flitwick has charmed some keys, McGonagall has transfigured a chess set, Snape has set a potions-based logic puzzle, and the Headmaster is planning to use the Mirror of Erised. Speaking of which, if you ask the Headmaster what he sees when he looks into it, he’ll say himself holding a pair of thick woollen socks. In fact he sees his family whole and intact, free of pain and suffering. One would have thought you’d have learned your lesson, Headmaster. All your scheming has ever done is destroy the lives of those around you. Your sister Ariana was the first, how many more must die before you realise that? Oh, wait, I can tell you – several thousand.” Dumbledore frowned.

“Yes, I’m afraid so, Headmaster. Your wonderful plan led to the death of thousands, including fifty students in what became known as the Battle of Hogwarts. Seriously, Headmaster, what sort of plan allows Voldemort to regain power and lay siege to the school with sufficient forces to win? Are you _insane_? I suspect so, because bizarrely, you did nothing to prevent that siege. You did, however, spend a year trying to stop a marked Death Eater, Draco Malfoy, from being the one to kill you. You succeeded in that endeavour, so well done.” Harry slow-clapped sarcastically.

“It’s good to know that you will always be around to sacrifice the innocent to save the guilty, Headmaster. Lavender Brown, for example, the little girl who was sorted into Gryffindor just a few moments ago... had her throat ripped out by Fenrir Greyback.” McGonagall looked appalled. “Forty nine other children lost their lives that day. But apparently that’s okay, because Draco Malfoy was saved from having your death on his conscience. Woohoo! _Seriously_ , Headmaster, what goes on in that twisted head of yours? You think you’re so bloody righteous. The parents of those children would disagree I think... the ones who didn’t die themselves, that is. Hannah Abbott’s mother, for example, was not so fortunate. She was tortured and killed by Death Eaters at her home. But Draco’s conscience was clear, so who gives a shit about anything else, eh Headmaster?”

The other professors looked appalled, but Dumbledore seemed unperturbed by these revelations. He remained silent as Harry continued, “It might interest you to know that, against all odds, your plan did actually work, in the sense that Voldemort was in fact defeated... for a while.”

That got a reaction from Dumbledore. He looked distinctly unsettled.

Harry smiled coldly, “I regret to inform you that twenty two years after I defeated Voldemort, his daughter used a true time-turner to go back and undo everything. Yes, you heard me right Headmaster – his _daughter_. That mad cow Bellatrix Lestrange bore him a child. None of us expected _that_ , did we? No mentioned of _that_ in the prophecy, was there? No, there bloody wasn’t. Anyway, to cut a long story short, we captured her, undid her tampering and destroyed all the true time turners. We thought we had her safely locked up in Azkaban... but she escaped, along with the inventor of the true time-turners. He made her another one and she went back again. She wreaked havoc with the timeline and we had no way to stop her. Our only chance was to send my consciousness back to a time before she was conceived, and prevent her ever being born. So here I am, with one chance to change things, and limited time in which to do it. Killing Quirrell was the simplest solution.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, “Limited time?”

Harry chuckled mirthlessly, “Yes, limited time. Thanks to the abuse my ten-year-old self has suffered at the hands of the Dursleys, this body was ill-equipped to deal with the trauma of my arrival. I regret that I will be unable to fulfil the role you have mapped out for me, Headmaster, because this body is dying. I’ve been using magic to keep it alive, but my reserves are almost gone. I have perhaps a few minutes left. So call the Aurors if you like, Snape. It will make no difference to me. I will be dead long before they get here.”

Harry sighed, “If I’m honest, Headmaster, death will come as an enormous relief. The life you and Snape gave me was not worth living. I’ll be glad to be rid of it.” The small boy wavered unsteadily, and grimaced in pain. His breathing became laboured and he seemed unaware that Dumbledore was speaking to him.

When Harry finally spoke, he ignored the questions that had been put to him. “Before I go, there are a few things I must tell you. The Headmaster knows full well that it was Voldemort’s shade that fled from this Hall. He knows that Voldemort is not dead. He is correct on both counts. He also thinks that I have merely deprived Voldemort of a host, and that he will return. In that he is mistaken. I have defeated Voldemort today and he will never return, unless you do something to _screw it up_. Voldemort’s shade will go back to the Albanian forest once again and wait for his Death Eaters to rescue him. Sadly for him, none of them want him back, so they won’t bother.”

Harry paused for a moment to get his breath, and then resumed.

“The only ones who might have done so are Peter Pettigrew, who is now dead, and Barty Crouch Jr who is currently held under the _imperius_ by his own father at Crouch Manor. You should probably put him back in Azkaban where he belongs. Five years from now, Voldemort’s shade will give up hope of ever being rescued. Eventually he will simply fade away. All you need to do to defeat Voldemort is _do nothing_. As long as no wizards cross his path, we have won. Your elaborate plan was entirely unnecessary, Headmaster. In fact it was your plan that brought about Voldemort’s return to power. Your belief that only I could kill the mad git blinded you to the possibility that killing him wasn’t even necessary. All we had to do was deprive him of a body for long enough that he faded away. Instead, you let him return, regain a body, and build an army. _Great plan you moron!_ ”

Harry coughed violently for several seconds before he was able to continue.

“So he won’t be coming back, but you should probably still destroy his horcuxes, just in case.” Dumbledore looked aghast that Harry had spoken of them so openly. “Destroy them with basilisk venom or _Fiendfyre_. His diary in Malfoy Manor is the most important one. That has enough of him in it to become autonomous. Marvolo Gaunt’s ring in the Gaunt Shack should be destroyed completely. Do not put the ring on, Headmaster. It will kill you. Don’t be fooled into thinking it will bring back Ariana. It won’t. Slytherin’s locket is at Sirius Black’s House. His brother Regulus stole it from Voldemort and lost his life in the process. Regulus’ faithful house elf Kreacher has it now. The house is very well warded, so you’ll need to free Sirius to get in. Don’t screw that up. Hufflepuff’s Cup is in Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault at Gringotts. It’s up to you how you get to that. We broke into Gringotts and stole it but I wouldn’t recommend that approach. Most of the bank was destroyed and the Goblins were rather unhappy... until Voldemort killed them all. Ravenclaw’s Diadem is in the Room of Hidden Things right here in Hogwarts. The House Elves can show you where that is. And finally the last one... as you suspected, Headmaster... is me.” Even Snape looked appalled at that statement. “Fortunately I’m already dying so that will resolve itself soon.”

Harry wobbled alarmingly. Each breath had become a struggle. “I think... I would like... to die now.”

His voice dropped to a whisper and his face creased in pain, “Dear Merlin... let it be... the last time.”

Harry’s eyes fluttered shut and his chin dropped to his chest. He was dimly aware of raised voices and fountains of sparks. He mentally smiled to himself. They were trying to break through his shield. They would succeed eventually, not least because Dumbledore had the Elder Wand, but they would be too late. The world seemed to topple on its axis. Dully, as if from a great distance, he felt his head strike the floor. A muffled scream echoed in his ears. Everything went white and then... nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this story please hit the kudos button. The story continues in part II... :)


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